Meetings Over Dinner
by lizziexbeth93
Summary: Mycroft Holmes needs to keep an eye on Sherlock while John processes Mary's death. When a PhD candidate moves into the newly renovated basement apartment, he finds himself taking more comfort in her than expected.
1. Chapter 1

As Sarah Garner settled herself into her new apartment, she couldn't help but smile. Moving to a new country proved more difficult than she had anticipated, and she assumed the worst. In just a few weeks, she would be beginning her PhD and teaching classes to the wonderfully enthused freshmen. Before settling her in, Mrs. Hudson had introduced her to Sherlock Holmes, someone who was more than Sarah was prepared to handle. Luckily, his apartment was upstairs while hers was in a newly converted basement. Judging by the bullet holes in his wall, she'd be glad. Sarah decided the previous night's sleep had been enough to give her the energy to make a grocery run. Once she was on the sidewalk, reusable bags in hand, she couldn't shake the feeling she was being followed. When the car of concern slowed, she couldn't help but stop as she lifted a brow.

"Get in," a well dressed woman said simply. Sarah obliged, heart pounding in her chest. She was a people pleaser. Besides, where was this to lead? It didn't set off any buzzers that she'd be injured. After meeting Sherlock the day before, this was a welcome sort of surprise. Once escorted into an office, she sat and smoothed her skirt self-consciously as she looked at the man behind the desk.

"Miss Garner, I presume?" he said simply, extending a hand.

"Yes, I am," she nodded curtly as her hands stayed settled on her lap. "I'm sorry, but given how I arrived here, I'm tempted to forego formality."

"A fair judgement." The man stood and she watched as he strode gracefully to pour himself a drink. "Would you care for one? It could help ease your nerves."

"I don't take drinks from strangers," she chuckled lightly. "Now, might I ask what has me here. I'm a student, I can't see why-"

"You're pursuing your PhD in literature. Your presentations at conferences last year focused on 'oft-maligned genres,' as you put it. Personally, I fail to see the appeal. Horror and comic books. Most leave those interests in their teen years."

"Most fail to analyze them properly," she bristled. "Again, I ask why I am here. And now, I ask how you know that."

"Oh you're no fun," he said, leaning back as he returned to his seat. "Take a guess."

"I've found myself drawing a blank. You're not as menacing as you think you are. The more you talk, the less I fear for my safety."

"Hmph, I suppose I can let the cat out of the bag," he said, steepling his fingers as he leaned forward. "First and foremost, I'm Mycroft Holmes. Brother of Sherlock. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson introduced the both of you."

"You're much more, well, together than your brother," she noted. "He called you the government."

"He's experiencing a brief setback, yes. And that's all you need to know about me. What I'm here to do is request you let me know if you hear of anything my brother is up to. I have my own means of keeping tabs on him, but I do suspect those walls are thin. Obviously, I will reimburse you."

"And if I opt not to play along with you distorted family dynamic?"

"I'll simply make your life as difficult as I can. I have my ways of keeping tabs on you as well, my dear."

"I opt out with a caveat," Sarah offered, chin held high. "He seems a danger. I can tell he's on something. I'll report the gun shots and any fits I may witness to you. Other than that, it's you communicating with your brother."

"It's better than nothing, I suppose," he conceded. "We'll revisit my offer later?"

"No, we won't, Mycroft. I'll be too busy with teaching and school to be your brother's keeper. I can discuss him with you, on occasion. But I won't be a paid snitch."

"Well, would you concede to these discussions happening over dinners? If I won't get my way, I'd at least like to be seen out with a beautiful woman as a sort of pity prize."

"If you want to take me to dinner, it will have to be personal rather than business. That said, flattery won't sway me any more than money will. Now please have that car take me to the grocery store."

"Pity," Mycroft replied, voice even as a ghost of a smile played on his lips. "You will be dropped at the market. I'll be checking in with you soon enough."

"I'll be counting the hours," she said, rolling her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

"No, no, the man living in my building is the worst," Sarah giggled, another pint entering her system.

"Really? He beats out the nudist?" Michelle, her cohort, challenged. "Because the nudist has yet to understand I don't want to see everything he's got going on."

"The guy in the other apartment? Strung out detective. Totally whacked. Shoots at the wall, living with another junkie, basically got a meth lab in there," she said, watching her reaction and laughing again. "No! That's not the worst of it! His brother works for the government. Has me picked up and wants me to inform on his brother to him. It's crazy."

"His brother works for the government?" Michelle asked over the top of her beer. "Is he at least fit? If he's going to kidnap you, he better be well fit."

"He's handsome. DIstinguished," she admitted bashfully. "But the whole kidnapping thing? Total red flag. He did offer to have our meetings over dinner though."

"Dinner talk, then pillow talk!" Michelle finished her beer, waggling her brows at the blonde across from her as they readied to walk towards their apartments. "I say give him a dinner, Sarah. Good job, probably busy a lot. Balances out. Then he won't have to kidnap you!"

"Kidnapping implies she didn't consent to getting in the car," a voice behind them on the sidewalk remarked, and Sarah swung around with wide eyes.

"Mycroft! Shit," she managed. This was not how she wanted their meetings. She was tipsy enough it would be hard to keep up with him. Besides that, she had yet to decide how much she trusted him.

"Are you the brother?" Michelle laughed, elbowing Sarah lightly in the ribs. "I suppose I'll catch a cab. Have fun with Mr. Government."

"Michelle! Don't leave me. He'll kidnap me again."

"I wouldn't stoop so low, dear. I told you these meetings would happen. I was just going to have our first little discussion over chips."

"Fine," she conceded, staring daggers into the back of Michelle's head as she hailed a cab. "Take me to the chip shop." Mycroft nodded slightly, guiding her through the streets of London. When she ordered, he paid before settling across from her.

"Well Ms. Garner," he smiled tightly. "Do tell me how my brother is?"

"Ugh, don't wanna," she groaned, all she'd had to drink now fully entering her system. "The same old. Strung out. Shoots a gun. Lives with a junkie. They cook-well maybe not meth but something."

"Has he had any other guests?" Mycroft asked, watching her sway slightly and look at him with heavy lids. He already knew the answer, of course. He had, however, underestimated the amount Sarah had imbibed in that night. Maybe she was a lightweight or maybe she'd had more than he knew. Either way, there was little hope for a productive conversation.

"No. Just the guy. Maybe like one half assed case," she said, smiling again as she at her chips. Mycroft hated to admit it, but he enjoyed seeing the drunken little smile that crossed her lips. She was in no state to go back on her own. It could be deemed rude, but he was tempted to offer her his guest room to see if her smile was as warming in the morning.

"Well, I suppose I did fail to mention he's a consulting detective. People tend to know. Quite a big deal in London." His guards fell and a genuine smile crossed his face as she scoffed.

"He does think he's real smart, huh? Is he always such a pain. 'Oh, stop! I'm being impressive!' It gets so old," she giggled, hands waving as she mimicked her neighbor. Her mind may have been fuzzy in the moment, but seeing the small smile on the serious man's face gave her sense of pride she did not expect.

"I'm the smart one," Mycroft said as though he was telling her a secret.

"Modest too," she snorted. "It's time I head home. Since you scared my company, you're walking me."

"We could call my car and-"

"No. I wanna walk. C'mon," she said, hopping up on shaky legs and weaving out the door. It fet rather undignified to him, but Mycroft let himself catch up. She was a little unsteady, he told himself as he let her lean in and place an arm around his shoulders.

"You're pissed," he said simply, his hand moving as gentlemanly as possible to the small of her back.

"That means drunk here, right?" she asked, grinning when he nodded. "Kinda. Thought I'd have a girls' night. You kinda crashed it and messed up my timing."

"Your timing?" he asked, one brow raised.

"I woulda been this drunk after I got home and mostly washed my face. You took me for chips and it was all ruined! Now I'll sleep in my clothes and make up."

"Surely you can take care of yourself."

"Drunk me is too lazy. You can come wash my face though."

"How would I do that? I can't support you at the sink."

"Make up wipes and a bowl of water?" she offered, grinning as she stood a little more.

"Do you just want to be treated like a child?" he asked, rolling his eyes. Then she gave him another toothy grin with her nod and something inside him warmed again.

"Fine. I'll come tuck you in. You do realize you are an adult working towards their PhD?"

"Maybe. But I'm also lazy and cute."

"I suppose I can agree with that," he whispered, steering her to her apartment. "Now go change and get in bed. I'll get water and whatever these wipes are from your restroom."

Sarah lit up, following directions and settling in her bed in shorts and a tank top. Mycroft had cared for plenty of drunks in his time, but he never enjoyed it. They had let themselves get that way. It wasn't his fault. But Sarah seemed to be effecting him differently, something that was deeply unsettling for him. Pushing the discomfort down, he focused instead on the girl looking at him with eyes barely open.

"Mycroft!" she giggled groggily. "I'm sleepy."

"You're drunk," he corrected, holding out two aspirin and a glass. "Take these before we wash your face."

"Do you only wear suits?" she asked as she downed her pills. "Because it's so late and not a work day and you're wearing a suit?"

"Everyday is a work day," he said plainly, taking the wipe and starting to clean her face. When he'd finished, he stood and ran a hand over her hair. "Get some sleep, dear. We'll talk again soon."

"Hopefully when I'm not pissed," she managed, voice thick with sleep and pride at her use of slang.

"Yes, one can only hope."


	3. Chapter 3

"You can stop hiding," Sarah called over her shoulder, adjusting the worn, leather bag on her shoulder. Mycroft stepped around the corner, hands in the pockets of his coat.

"You'll catch cold," he said simply, deciding to gloss over the fact it was her shapely legs that were barely protected in a pair of sheer tights.

"Thanks, mom," she teased, opting to ignore the fact she truly was freezing. She leaned against the brick wall, back flat against it. Mycroft came to stand in front of her, examining her.

"I know you've decided not to report to me on my brother, but there's been someone in their flat, hasn't there?" Sarah sighed, leaning back to dig her phone out and check her email.

"Well, some blonde. I don't know. They went for such a long, late walk I thought she may not be a client. That's all I'll tell you."

"Ah, yes. He wanted to get a message to me." Sarah chuckled at the somewhat fond smile that crossed his face. "What does she look like?"

"I didn't commit it to memory. I saw them leaving." Mycroft nodded, moving to lean beside her and light a cigarette. "You can stop trying to pretend this is some sort of duty. You're worried, aren't you?"

"Someone just has to keep him in line." She deserved to know there was a reason to be concerned. There were more than two Holmes siblings, and some part of him knew the east wind was coming. Sarah deserved to be safe. He could tell she seemed to think this was simply the case of an overprotective brother; this was just about addiction. In another world, he'd have ignored his brother and taken the first opportunity to take Miss Garner to dinner. Instead, he had the nation to worry about. He had his brother. His family's feelings.

Sarah could see the nervousness etched into Mycroft's face. Despite the oddness that permeated her experiences with him, she wanted to do something to help. His brow was ever so slightly knitted and he seemed even stiffer than usual.

"Why don't you come to my apartment?" she offered, turning to look at him more fully. "I can fix you something to eat. You need to relax for an evening."

"Miss Garner-"

"Sarah." A soft chuckle from him.

"Sarah. I can't be spending my time on Baker Street. I would love to say yes, but my brother will be suspicious." Though he'd pretend it had nothing to do with the ever so slight shift in her demeanor, he added, "You could come to my house. It's a drive but I've a guest room."

"Are you inviting me to a slumber party?" she grinned, the excitement returning to her eyes.

"Well, if that's what you wish to call it."

"Let me go get a change of clothes." Mycroft nodded.

"My car will pick you up in an hour at Baker Street. Though, I must say I don't understand why you'd want to spend an evening with me."

"Research," she teased, bumping his hip with her own as she passed. That was when Mycroft knew he'd have to walk a fine line. He wanted her, but he certainly didn't deserve her. One of them had to keep the distance.


End file.
